She's A Friend Of Pidgeons

Free MP3 download: My_Friend_Sue.mp3 

This song is a sketch; and needs to be worked on some more, but I am determined to forge ahead and create more of the very kind of things that I have been criticized over. 
I can't help it; these are the songs that I wake up with in my head, so enjoy the first-draft demo of "My Friend Sue."
 
Saturday Night: More Of The Same

Saturday night, I got to my playing spot by the State National Life (or something) building at a relatively early hour.

I sat down and played for a while and was thrown a few dollars.

At one point, the saxophone player, a young black guy, who is apparently studying the saxophone at the college (Southern University, or something) walked past me.

He had his head down, walked briskly past; didn't acknowledge me in any way; he looked kind of pissed off that I was playing in the spot, which has become like the "Boardwalk" (to you Monopoly players) of Third Street.

There are so many clubs that blast their music out their front doors that the spot (which I discovered myself by walking around and checking acoustics and volume levels when I first arrived here) has become quite a bone of contention lately.

He walked on, and a minute later, I heard a few tentative saxophone notes, which sounded as though they were coming from the other corner of the same building -the corner where Gabriel was famous for playing at for years. Gabriel has some kind of night job now, which I'm sure pays at least as well as busking, or at least more consistently than busking; so he has not been seen in the past few weeks.

The saxophone notes stopped, and I could only wonder if the kid gave up on the idea of playing, or if he sought another spot; one out of earshot; which would mean about at least a quarter mile away...

I Did It Again

I played for a couple of hours and then; sensing that the saxophone player would figure that I had the spot locked up, and would forget about it and be long-gone; I took a break to run to the store; just as I had done the previous night.

I ran to the store; and back.

He Did It Again

The saxophone player was in the spot, playing away. 

In retrospect; it seems that he had learned my habits and, instead of playing on the opposite corner, which would give me the idea that he was "lurking" and would notice me leaving to run to the store; he rather refrained from playing; perhaps to make me think that he was nowhere around; and then as soon as I took my break; he grabbed the spot.

I'm pretty sure he knew what he was doing, because A:

After I went and made a paltry 23 bucks (again) at the alternative spot and then returned to the hot dog cart at about 1 a.m. (I had had enough, and there was a black man sitting next to me offering me crack, who was probably eying the 23 bucks in my case, and I was tired of playing the same blues in D on the harmonica over and over -it was the only thing that could cut through the volume of everything else around)...after I returned to the hot dog cart, the saxophone guy actually took a break himself and walked (still tooting on the horn) off across a parking lot in the direction of where someone might go to take a leak.

I could have jumped right on the spot, just like he did -it was only about 1:15 am, and there was at least another hour of moneymaking to be had; but I just didn't want to escalate the situation to where it would become a more obvious bone of contention. Plus, I wanted to make him think that I did quite alright in another spot and that I wasn't sweating the fact that he had grabbed that one.

Well, I eventually took my "walk at the end of the night to look for drinks that people took one sip out of and then decided that they had had enough to drink and so just left them sitting somewhere; and for cigarettes that people lit and took one drag and then realized that he club they were looking for was right in front of thier face and then threw on the ground", when I ran into the saxophone player.

Business Is Business

His initial reaction was to turn his back upon me and start to walk away; but I guess he noticed out of the corner of his eye that I wasn't glaring at him maliciously, but was rather friendly.

We started talking, at which point I noticed that he was pretty drunk, and he admitted that he was pretty drunk.

Drunk enough to blab that he had made "about 60 bucks" that night "in 4 hours."

I told him that I had made about 23 bucks; not wanting to escalate the lying; if that was indeed what it was...

He wound up offering me the rest of the Budweiser lime-tequila flavored drinks that were left out of the 12 pack that was in his car; and then we smoked some mojo synthetic weed; and I wound up playing the guitar. A couple of people came by and gave us tips, as we sat on the sidewalk by his car.

He turned out to be a pretty decent person; though I think he has trouble deciding between being a thug or just talking like a normal person. I was a litle intimidated by him at first, but, the more I just used plain English and didn't exagerate things or use false bravado; the more he became like the 19 year old, insecure kid that every 19 year old kid is...if that makes any sense. 
And, I'm going to beat him to the spot next weekend and hold onto it; and see if I can make the 60 bucks, instead of he. Business is business....